


Probably Considered an Inappropriate Amount of Time

by OrangeZest100



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeZest100/pseuds/OrangeZest100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 1: Red<br/>Prompt 2: One foot in the fire.<br/>Prompt 3: That makes us friends</p>
<p>this didn't quite go as originally expected<br/>kind of pre-slash to slash scenario</p>
            </blockquote>





	Probably Considered an Inappropriate Amount of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theanonsisters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanonsisters/gifts).



            “You’re drunk.”

            “Cas,” Sam yells, and no matter how much Castiel loves the nickname, hearing it slurred from the youngest Winchester’s mouth makes him quite uncomfortable.  The bar’s crowded this time of night but there’s a one seat radius around Sam and the other patrons are glaring at him.  The bartender almost looks relieved when Castiel arrives.

            “You’re going to take him home right?  He’s been scaring off customers all night; talking some strange things to.  You pay his tab and he’s free to go, I won’t even charge you for the couple of glasses he broke.”  Castiel turns his studying gaze back to Sam, who’s staring at the grains of wood that make up the bar, humming and chuckling to himself over things Castiel cannot guess.  Castiel nods, hauls Sam up off his stool and swings one of the man’s arms over his shoulder, hunches down so that he seems more human, before digging a hand into Sam’s pocket for the Winchester’s wallet.  Finding it, Castiel turns his gaze to the unnamed barkeeper, who gives him a sheepish smile before muttering “$150” at him.  Castiel seats $170 on the bar.

            “For the trouble,” he mutters, latching his hands onto Sam’s wrist and waist to keep his friend upright.   Sam’s giggling in his ear and by the time their outside, the door has swung shut and Castiel can hear the cheer from the customers of the establishment.  He waits until he can duck into an empty alleyway to fly them back to the motel, and when they get there he lays Sam down on the bed, ignores the way that with Sam’s hair spread on the red comforter; it reminds him of blood.  “I don’t understand the thought process behind this decision.”  Sam groans a bit, holding his stomach as he sits up, squinting at him.

            “I’m glad you worry Cas,” Sam says instead of answering.  “That’s what makes us friends, because we care about each other.”  Sam half-smiles and Cas isn’t certain, but he believes that Sam’s words come out less slurred than before; Castiel wonders if he may have helped burn off some of the alcohol accidentally with the touch of his Grace.

            “You should sleep.”  Sam just shakes his head, hair flopping from side to side, and when he’s done he hunches forward to lean his face into his hands.

            “Not tired.”  Castiel simply frowns, finds a chair to pull over near the foot of the bed and seats himself upon it, prepared, as always, to watch over a Winchester.  They sit in silence for several moments, and Castiel, normally so acclimated to silence and patient in his ways is curious, and so he speaks.

            “Why did you consume such a large quantity of alcohol?”  Sam looks at him rather sharply, and Castiel wonders not for the first time exactly how drunk he is, but the hunter sighs and runs a hand through his lengthy hair.

            “I wanted to forget, for a little while.  Forget about the Apocalypse, the Cage, that Tuesday where I watched Dean die over and over, forget the Leviathans, forget Amelia, and even forget Jess.”  Sam pauses, breaths like this is one of the hardest things he has ever done even though Castiel knows that he has done much harder.  “It’s too much sometimes, my mistakes, my failures.”  Castiel thinks he understands, has a semblance of understanding at least.  He has spent his existence worshipping and working for his father, but now he’s died and he’s bled, he’s felt a strong spectrum of emotions, and Castiel is more human than he would like to admit, forgetting the multi-dimension of his true form and consciousness, stuck for so long inside of this vessel, inside of Jimmy.  Sam breaks his train of thought with a small laugh.  “I stop drinking demon blood to become an alcoholic; one foot in the fire.”  Castiel doesn’t get it but he’s fairly certain it’s supposed to be some kind of metaphor, possibly about the dangers of fire and Sam’s relation to addiction.

            “You’re good person Sam.”  Cas says instead, because the boy needed to hear it and because he has no trouble conveying what he believes to be true.  Sam’s laugh is the same as the last one, dark and full of self-hate.

            “No I’m not, and not too long ago you didn’t think so either.  I believe you said:  Sam, of course, is an abomination.”  Castiel flinches.

            “I was quite intoxicated and filled with thoughts of my own failure when I said that.  I do not agree with it now.”  Sam’s smile is genuine, if tinged with sadness, and Castiel wonders again how much he and his brethren’s interference has ruined the lives of both Winchesters.  “I have made some horrible decisions: lying to you and Dean, becoming God, killing my siblings.  Sam, I have slaughtered so many of my brethren that I can’t go back, that I’m _afraid_ to go back.”  Despite telling Dean this days ago, telling Sam seems different, and if Castiel was prone to poetic language, he would say that it hung in the air different, that it had different implications.

            “When” —Sam clears his throat—“when I said yes, Lucifer talked to me, and he showed me a bunch of the demons who worked for Azazel, who’d been ‘watching over me’ for most of my life, and he punished them, for lack of a better term, and I-“ Sam struggles with words for several moments, but Castiel remained silent.  “I liked it.”  Sam is nervous, his knee bouncing as he runs a hand through his hair again.  “God, I’ve never told anyone that.”  Castiel considers him, stares at his face for what is probably considered an inappropriate amount of time in human interaction.

            “I fail to see how this makes you a bad person.” 

            “It doesn’t necessarily, I was just telling you a situation that was in that might be comparable to yours and—you know what, forget it.”  The Winchester lies back down on the bed, toes off his boots so that he can pull his feet onto the mattress with him.  Eventually he gets back up.  “I can’t sleep with you staring at me like that Cas.”  Castiel just shrugs, unsure of what else to do, and Sam sighs.  “Where the hell is Dean anyway?”

            “I believe his words were ‘I’m not dealing with Gigantor’s fucking hangover, you take care of him’.  He booked another room.”  Sam half-smiles again.

            “Thanks for looking out for me Cas,” he says quietly and leans towards him, and Castiel, confused, hollows him and their lips touch.  Later, much later, Castiel will find out that Sam had simply meant to kiss his cheek, but for now he’s concerned with the fact that his lips are touching Sam’s, just ever so slightly in the front, and how Sam seems slightly frozen.

            “Cas,” says Sam quietly.  Castiel finds he is having trouble responding and when Sam sucks a breath in through his lips, Castiel can feel the drag of air on his own; he can feel the Winchester breathing.  It’s unexpected when Sam moves forward, presses their lips together completely, soft and insistent as his eyes flutter closed.  Castiel isn’t sure when his own eyes close, though he knows that it happens but he does know that he doesn’t respond, unsure whether to push forward as well or back away.  Sam doesn’t give up for a moment, giving him time to make up his mind, but then he’s leaning back and Cas panics, because he likes that warmth on his lips, doesn’t want to lose it.  So Castiel chases Sam, kisses him back as he climbs onto the bed, straddles Sam’s lap and clutching his upper arms hard enough that his angelic strength will leave bruises.  Sam pulls back at some point for the air that his human body needs, stares at him for a moment.  “This will have consequences.”

            “I know, though I’m fairly certain that if we can handle the Apocalypse a couple of times, we can make do.  You’re not actually that drunk.”  Sam chuckles, eyes scrunching up at the corners in a genuine smile that Cas hasn’t seen him wear since his return.

            “Yeah, well, I’m pretty buzzed enough to blame this on the alcohol later, if we want to.”  Sam is kissing him again, lips warm and insistent, and his hands are now gripping Castiel’s hips, and Cas likes kissing, knows how to kiss, but this is ever so slightly unfamiliar to him, even if to his body it is not.  Sam’s hands are sure in their actions as they move off his hips to drag his overcoat from his shoulders and toss it towards the floor, breaks their kiss long enough to pull Castiel’s tie over his head and throw that away as well, kisses at his neck.  “We can stop whenever you want to, alright; we don’t have to take this anywhere you’re uncomfortable with.”  Cas takes a second to consider that before he leans forward, drawing Sam’s mouth away from his neck as he puts his lips near Sam’s ear.

            “Are you going to undress me, or not?”  Sam doesn’t need to be asked twice, it seems, for his hands are peeling off his jacket and Cas attempts to use his own hands, pushes off Sam’s layer of plaid, and Sam helps him when the fabric reaches his elbows.  Cas’ fingers turn skittish when they play at the hem of Sam’s remaining t-shirt but Sam’s too focused on undoing the buttons of Castiel’s shirt to notice.  Dipping under and up, Cas floats his fingers over Sam’s skin and the Winchester swears loudly, tries to get Cas’ shirt off even faster.  Cas is entranced by this, how differing pressure and position of his fingers can spawn different reactions and noises from the Winchester, and he stays completely lost in this new world until Sam is using teeth to guide Castiel’s skin into his mouth to suck on.  Cas gasps, arches into Sam’s mouth where it’s fixed on sucking a hickey into his collarbone.  He becomes sufficiently distracted from getting Sam shirtless when Sam tongues the area of skin as well.  It’s a strange sensation, a new sensation, as they all would be in this for him, but it’s not in any way unpleasant, the exact opposite, and Castiel thinks he could fall for this.  Sam flips them over, makes quick work of Castiel’s pants and underwear, only struggles slightly when he realizes that Cas is still wearing his shoes.  Castiel doesn’t feel the usual nervousness most humans would feel when naked, naked and aroused no less, and he’s suddenly very certain that he wants Sam’s clothes _gone_.  Sam starts a bit when Castiel whisks his clothes away but he just laughs, leans down to kiss him softly again, but this time Castiel pushes back rough, bites at Sam’s lips to drag a growl from the human’s chest.

            Castiel flips them over again, resumes his stance of straddling Sam’s hips decides to use his newfound kissing skills on Sam’s neck and chest.  Somehow he gets Sam shaking and needy, making Cas smirk against his skin but he gasps as a wet finger slides along his ass.  Cas isn’t stupid, he knows how this works, but he still whimpers as Sam moves his fingers closer to their intended destination.  “Hey,” Sam whispers worry in the pitch of his voice and Castiel forces his eyes open.  “You don’t have to do anything for me Cas, remember?  It’s okay to be nervous but if it’s too much, if it’s—“ Cas shuts him up with a kiss.  So Sam pushes a finger in, prepares Cas slowly with whispered prayers on his skin, and by the time Cas is ready he’s almost shaking, reaches down a hand to stroke Sam back to hardness.  Sam sucks at his neck, positions them carefully, brings them together just as carefully.  Sam stills, waits for Cas to adjust, but Castiel growls, raises himself up and pushes back down.  It’s fast, deep, and intimate, full of wet, sloppy kisses wherever they can reach.  Sam breathes out Castiel’s full name as he orgasms and Cas thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard; stroking himself a few times, he comes as well, breathing raggedly into Sam’s neck.  They pull apart carefully and Sam pulls them under the blankets, tugs Castiel into his chest and falls asleep.  They’ll have to speak in the morning, discuss things between them and possibly with Dean, but for now Castiel is content to let Samuel Winchester sleep with Castiel’s head curled under his chin.


End file.
